When you think of Edmonton and music – what comes to mind? For me; it’s folk, rock, and jazz.
When I asked local rap artist Just Moe, he didn’t even hesitate; “foundation.”
This little bridge symbolizes everything I love about our single track community in Edmonton. It’s tiny and mostly unknown, but build by someone at their own time and expense completely to make everyone’s ride better. True rider’s altruism. pic.twitter.com/CFD6maEMGf
— Darren Markland (@drdagly) February 4, 2023
We were two days away from his final show in Edmonton at the Foundry on Whyte, hanging out in a park he grew up in, Millwoods Park, as nervous as each other. It was warm, overcast with some sneaky sun, and a cool breeze left us comfortable. We were the only ones there.
We talked about the kinds of things you’d guess two young adults might talk about when properly meeting for the first time; imposter syndrome, the internet, the housing crisis in Canada, etc.
sometimes imposter syndrome hits and my brain is like “oh no I’ve tricked everyone into thinking I’m a real artist”
— titsay 𓆏 (@titsay) November 8, 2020
In early June, I saw him perform at a New Standards event and I think I just sat there wide-eyed for his whole performance. Moe may as well have bounced onto the stage that night — you could feel his energy. He was excited, he was confident, and you were watching.
So, who the fuck is this guy?
24 year old Mohammed Ahmed was raised in the Millwoods neighborhood on the Southeast end of Edmonton. He goes by Just Moe on stage but anyone who’s seen him perform, knows he is anything but Just Moe.
His parents were both writers and encouraged him to find his voice by sending him to camps like YouthWrite, which he credits for the ‘start of his moment’.
“It started with me writing poetry. Now there’s music, there’s acting, there’s living life – I feel like life is pretty creative.”
And while his creative journey did not start with music, it’s clear he was made for the stage.
Moe released his sophomore album, The Night Of The Grit on December 17, 2021, much later than originally planned, a consequence of everything being pushed back over the last couple of years.
We talked about how artistry evolves with age and life experience, most obviously with younger artists. You can see examples of this in his own work, where his 2018 debut album Smile felt very playful and fun – the followings of a young man learning to move through the world independently – Night of the Grit feels aggressive, political, and jaded.
“Very candidly, I had a shrooms trip. I felt like I was split in the middle and I felt like something was wrong. I am still trying to figure it out. But I knew there was something I wanted to express and it was the opposite side of Smile. Night of the Grit is what I think people don’t know about me. Things I say to myself in my head all the time. I just want to be all of myself. We all have this beautiful armor on and I don’t know if I’ve been able to take it off yet. I can’t tell if I’m in the process of taking it off or making it stronger but I guess I just want to live authentically. I’m tired.”
But living authentically while also trying to market yourself can feel impossible. Comparing yourself to everyone else’s highlight reel on the internet is a sure way to separate who you are versus who you think you’re supposed to be in this world.
LOVE YOURSELF BABY!!!!!!!!
— TRÉSOR MAGAZINE (@tresormagazine) February 6, 2023
“I think it’s a psychoanalytical thing but when I started this, I thought, I want to do this for my life but there is no way I am going to be rich and famous. I’m not going to be the one making all this money. So I set my expectations low, called it a thing of passion, and I wonder if I’m still stuck in that. Is it valuable to hold on to?”
Imposter syndrome can show in so many different ways; maybe it’s insisting that your art is ‘just a hobby’, maybe it’s catering to a specific crowd instead of your genuine expression, maybe it’s simply devaluing your work – all this to remind you right now: it’s holding you back. Art should never be exactly what we expect it to be. It should be introducing us to a new sound, a new path that loops back to who we are. If we could see it all in ourselves, by ourselves – we wouldn’t need art and we wouldn’t need artists.
When he attended the National Theater School of Canada in Montreal, he says he felt imposter syndrome more than ever. His experienced peers were so tapped in and he was convinced that could never be him.
“Something that helped me find peace was realizing that “ok, that’s theirs”. I was picking up my closest friends’ and classmates’ talents and thinking ‘this is mine, right?’ No. They gave it out to the world and I could have just said ‘ah..’ and appreciated it.”
He referred to an interview he watched with Maya Angelou and Dave Chapelle in 2006 for a Sundance series called Iconoclasts. When asked how she lives up to being called ‘the greatest writer of all time’ Angelou replied with “I just say ‘ah..’ so I don’t need to pick it up, so I don’t need to put it down.”
A valuable lesson for any artist.
He spoke very fondly of his time in Montreal – reminiscing about the way the sun woke him through his bedroom window at his St. Joseph apartment, how he’d start his day with a smoke on his balcony, play some music – the distance between him and everyone he knew giving him a moment to sit with himself and his thoughts.
Montreal ! Snow ! -40*C 😶🌫️😶🌫️😶🌫️ pic.twitter.com/m2eJ8PHhLp
— 𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓪 (@Belliss78504483) February 5, 2023
And just as things started going, COVID hit and he was forced to take a breath. “I was so tired. I still am. I think we’re all tired nowadays.”
He shared a conversation he had with his friend Biboye soon after returning to Edmonton. It was about the speed of love. “He was coming at it through a religious scope, but I was taking it in for relationships. Platonic or romantic, I was just jumping into relationships and steamrolling them just to see where they went.” “Maybe ‘being present’ is the sentiment but I like the idea that ‘this can feel like love right now’, just sitting around, chatting it up. So, to move at the speed of love is letting it be there. That’s how I interpreted it.”
And I love that. With all the unexpected free time we’ve been able to experience through this pandemic, I hope you’ve all become masters of setting boundaries. I hope you aren’t allowing anyone to rush you through the motions. I hope you couldn’t give a damn about meeting anyone else’s expectations. I hope you understand that it is not your responsibility to be ‘enough’ for anyone but yourself. If we cannot be met and enjoyed where we stand, we do not want it.
Maybe this is love after all.
By the time this feature is released, Moe will be settled into the next chapter of his craft: Toronto. “I just want to lay low, go to shows, and check out what they’re doing over there. No one will know me and that’s so nice.” He has some friends out there, an agent, and they’re telling him it’s the move.
he's mr. canadawide y'all
— TRÉSOR MAGAZINE (@tresormagazine) February 6, 2023
It’s hard to justify leaving comfy-cozy-Edmonton when, unlike most major cities, housing tends to be cheaper as you move closer to the middle, which has created a very unique hub of artists. “It’s all about the details and this place is full of details. I’m wondering if Edmonton is the spot right now. Every year it seems to get better.”
But how can anyone resist a big city full of opportunity like Toronto?
“I paid rent yesterday and I’m already upset about it.”
All we could do was laugh.
About the author: Brizsa Pedroso is an Edmonton based music fanatic, and sometimes writer. She enjoys coffee, female-fronted music, and passionate tangents about how we can best support the artists we love. She has a cat named Fluffers and a dog named Cow.
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